


Expected Paths

by Morning66



Series: SBTB [1]
Category: Saved By the Bell (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24951574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning66/pseuds/Morning66
Summary: Slater should be applying to West Point and dating Jessie. Neither of those things are happening.
Relationships: Zack Morris/A.C. Slater
Series: SBTB [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805815
Kudos: 30





	Expected Paths

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!!!!! This is a prequel to my previous fic and details what happened before it. I plan to write one more that’s a sequel to them both. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you guys enjoy!! :)

Slater pulled a clean t-shirt over his head and took a seat on a bench so he could tie his tennis shoes. The locker room around him was quiet and empty, the other boys having already gone home. He, however, had stayed late to do some extra weight training and his muscles ached because of it, though he was glad to have the locker room to himself.

“Slater! There you are. I was hoping I’d catch you.” Slater turned to see his wrestling coach, Mr. Sonski, striding into the room, characteristic clipboard in hand, grin on his face.

“Hey Coach. What’s up?” Slater asked, rising from the wooden bench to approach the other man.

Coach Sonski reached out and placed a large, wrinkled hand on Slater’s shoulder. “Letters are coming from scouts, A.C. You know there’s a lot of people with their eye on you.”

“Yes, sir.” Slater did know, even if he wasn’t sure what to do about it. 

“When it comes down to it, kid, I think you could get a pretty good offer. Maybe a full ride, if you’re lucky.” Coach Sonski pulled a few envelopes from under the clip on his board. “Take these and look over them, okay? Then we’ll talk.”

Slater glanced down at the envelopes his coach had handed him. The one on top was from the University of Iowa. “Alright, Coach. I will.”

“Atta boy!” Coach Sonski gave Slater’s shoulder one last firm shake before heading for the door that led into the main part of the school. Slater watched him go, shaking his head slightly, before glancing down at the letters in his hand. They were all from decent wrestling schools. Maybe not the cream of the crop, but all had relatively high ranking teams that had a history of successful wrestlers.

While Slater enjoyed wrestling and would be overjoyed to continue it in college, he wasn’t sure that that would play out. With application season approaching, his father had been talking more and more about the military, especially West Point, where he himself had gone years before.

The army had always been the plan, Slater knew. Bayside was only supposed to be a brief respite, a brief sojourn into the civilian world before he followed his father’s footsteps into the military. It was the world that had raised him, had constituted his childhood, a seemingly endless string of bases and schools and faces.

At thirteen or fourteen, Slater might not have questioned it. The army was all he knew at that age, so logically he’d go straight in after graduating high school. He wasn’t the same boy he was then, though. He’d spent the last three years here at Bayside, learning what it was like to be a normal teenager who didn’t move around every few months.

Now, he was pretty sure he wanted something different then West Point. A normal college, maybe. One where he could wrestle and have friends and never hear the word reveille.

Sighing, Slater glared down at the letters. Like he could ever explain that to his father. He considered tearing up the papers he held in his hand. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. Attending one of these schools for wrestling would never happen.

Making a split second decision, Slater stuffed the letters into one of his textbooks, letting them stick out just a bit so he wouldn’t forget they existed. He shouldn’t shut these doors just yet. There was a time when he didn’t believe he’d ever stay at a school for a full grade, much less all of high school. If his time at Bayside could happen, maybe just maybe a wrestling scholarship could too.

Slater grabbed his books from his locker and shut the door, hearing the lock click. Seeing how late it was on the clock on the wall, Slater slipped out the door and hurried into the school hallway. He was heading for the door to the parking lot when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Hey, Slater! Wait up!”

Slater turned around to see Zack walking towards him, blonde hair a little messy, books tucked under his arm.

“Why are you still here, Preppy?” Slater asked his friend. School had been over for almost two hours now and it wasn’t like his friend belonged to any clubs that he could think of. Well, except the one time they both joined the cooking club for all of a week, Slater thought, laughing inwardly.

Zack shrugged his shoulders, which Slater realized had gotten a lot broader over the years he’d known him. Why was he noticing that?

“Belding was trying to get me to admit to moving things around in his office,” Zack responded mischievously. “And stealing his Principal of the Month trophy.”

“Did you?” Slater asked, pretty sure he knew the answer. 

“Course I did! Doesn’t mean I was telling him that, though.” Zack rolled his eyes. “Half the fun’s keeping him guessing.” 

Zack shot Slater a bright grin that he stared at a second too long. Slater shook his head a little to the sides, trying to clear his mind a bit.

“Only you, Morris.” He paused, running a hand down the strap of his wrestling bag that was sling over his shoulder. “You want a ride home?”

Slater was pretty sure that’s what his friend had been fishing for from the beginning of this conversation.

Zack’s head bobbed in agreement. “Well, now that you mention it...” He trailed off, tone destroying any doubts Slater had about why Zack had flagged him down. 

“Alright, Preppy. C’mon.” Slater motioned for Zack to follow him outside towards his car.

When they reached the car, Slater unlocked it and he climbed behind the wheel, slipping his books onto the tray between the two front seats. Zack took shotgun and as Slater started the engine, his friend leaned back in his seat and put his feet up on the dashboard.

“Morris,” Slater warned “Get your shoes off my dash.”

“Aw, Slater. You always were the safe driver. Mr. Tuttle would be proud.” Zack’s voice was teasing and he shot Slater a pointed look. His friend’s joke flashed A.C. back to sophomore year when he was just learning to drive and the blonde had tricked him into crashing into the lockers outside Belding’s office.

Slater shrugged his shoulders. “Safer then you anyway.”

He navigated the car out of the high school parking lot and onto the road perpendicular to it, heading toward his friend’s house, a route he knew pretty much by heart. Zack drummed his fingers against his seat rest, the sound of his nails hitting the leather making a click.

“What’s this?”

Slater edged up to the red light and turned to see the other boy holding up the letters from earlier.

“They’re from college scouts. About wrestling.” Slater added the last part as if there might be some other reason universities would be looking into him.

“Look at this one!” Zack was holding up the envelope from the University of Iowa, waving it around like a flag. “What are you gonna do there? Agriculture? Cornology?”

Slater rolled his eyes, then realized he should probably be focusing on the road in front of him. “Shut up, Zack. Anyway, I won’t be going to any of them.”

Zack didn’t respond for a few seconds and when he did, his voice was a bit more serious. “Why not? I’ll bet they’ll give you pretty good deals, Mr. State Wrestling Champion or whatever.”

Slater thought about fluffing Zack off, but decided against it. “My old man wants me to go to military school.”

The car ambled down the road as Zack considered his friend’s statement. “You don’t want to do that, though, do you?”

“Nope.” Slater paused and didn’t look at his friend as he rounded the turn onto Zack’s street. “Sometimes it’s just hard to get my dad off of these kinds of things. You know.”

He pulled up alongside the other boy’s house and looked out the window at it, noticing that the Morris’ car wasn’t in the driveway. Maybe Zack didn’t know. His parents, from what Slater had seen of them, never seemed like the type to push anything. Zack’s own father seemed to be barely around, barely remembering he had a son. He probably didn’t have a whole life planned out for his child by the time he started kindergarten.

“Wanna come in and have a soda?” Zack asked.

A.C. considered it. He honestly shouldn’t. He was supposed to be home an hour ago. His mother was expecting him at home, probably working on dinner right now in their kitchen, attempting and likely failing to enlist J.B.’s help. Still, hanging out with Zack for a bit sounded fun, like something that might calm him down a bit.

“Sure,” he replied and put the car in park.

Zack unlocked the door and Slater followed him inside. “My mom’s probably at the market.”

In the kitchen, Zack pulled out two Cokes from the fridge and tossed one to Slater, who followed his blond friend up the stairs to his bedroom.

When they reached his room, Zack sprawled across the bed, motioning for the other boy to take the position next to him. Slater complied, lying out about a foot and a half from Zack, a fact that his brain embarrassingly noticed. 

Sometimes, his brain didn’t work how it should. Sometimes it noticed weird things about his best friend, like how his hair looked on a certain day, or how their faces were close together that one time Zack had (incorrectly) tried to show him how to solve a quadratic equation. Slater wasn’t sure what that meant, but was pretty sure he didn’t want to know.

A little embarrassed from that line of thought, he glanced away from Zack towards the wall opposite, in particular the window that looked out towards a large tree. “Jessie’s room’s right out there, yeah?” Slater asked.

Zack turned around, following his gaze. “Yeah, we’ve always climbed in each other’s windows since we were kids.”

Slater’s lips turned up a bit at the idea of his two friends as young children, scampering in and out of each other’s rooms. “Nice.”

He’d never had that. As a military brat, friends came and went with the seasons, few leaving much of an impression in his mind. He couldn’t begin to name any friends he had when he was that young, their identities reduced to a few qualities, a few events. Blond braids here, a flag football game there.

“What’s going on with you two?” Zack asked, turning back towards Slater.

He sighed, flipping over on his back to stare at Zack’s ceiling. “I don’t know, Zack. We’re not together now, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Are you going to get back together?”

Slater shrugged his shoulders against the bed. He didn’t necessarily want to, to be honest. Sure, Jessie was beautiful and fiery and kind, but he was pretty sure there was something missing in their relationship, at least on his side. He cared a lot about her and she was one of his best friends, but maybe that was the problem- she was more a friend than a girlfriend.

Still, with how their whole friend group worked, cycling through relationships like a wheel, they’d probably end up back together sometime.

“Maybe. Maybe not though. We’ll all be going our separate ways for college soon enough, huh?” And military school, he thought bitterly. As he spoke, he fiddled with a loose string on Zack’s bedspread.

“She’ll probably go somewhere smart,” Zack declared, voice sure.

Slater flipped over so he was facing Zack again, lying on his side. Zack’s brown eyes were unfocused, a little dreamy. His vision stuck on them for a minute, distracting himself from whatever Zack had just said for a few seconds.

“Yeah probably,” Slater finally agreed, a bit of a funny lilt in his voice. He coughed and attempted to iron it out a bit. “Somewhere the men aren’t all pigs like us.”

Zack barked a laugh at that, grin growing on his face. “Right.” He paused, grin fading a little on his face. “It’ll be weird without everyone next year, won’t it?”

Slater smirked at his friend. “Getting sentimental, Morris?”

Though he was teasing Zack, to some extent he’d gotten used to being here with all of these friends who knew him inside and out. He’d miss them all like a phantom arm. All his tricks for making new friends quickly had probably gotten rusty from disuse. 

“Shut up.” Zack reached out and gave Slater a hard push that didn’t even move the other boy a bit. Zack’s eyes softened a tad, hands still lingering near Slater’s chest. “I’ll miss everyone, though.”

“Even me, Preppy?” As soon as he uttered the words, Slater cursed himself. He didn’t know how they’d slipped out, though maybe it had something to do with the fact that Zack’s hands on his chest made his brain short circuit.

Fondness crept into Zack’s expression. “Yeah, you. There’s no one I’d rather beat, you know?”

This line of conversation gave Slater déjà vu. He remembered a similar response years ago after Zack had tried to get him to move to Hawaii by convincing their friends he had a life-threatening illness. Then, it’d been a joke, them laughing together after the girls, particularly the one they’d both liked then, had left them to their lonesome. Now, though, it felt different, as if the once benign interaction had been electrically charged.

Zack’s eyes locked with Slater’s and there was something intense in them that hadn’t been there a minute ago. A message seemed to be conveyed between the two of them, though what it was went over Slater’s head. Suddenly, Zack’s hands felt heavier against his chest, palms like twin irons, hot and firm. Was Zack pressing harder, or was it all in his imagination?

That’s when Slater knew something was going to happen, something terrifying. Maybe it was because of Zack’s eyes, still boring into his. Maybe it was because of Zack’s hands, which must feel how fast his heart was beating, but didn’t pull away. Maybe it was a million and one things that in this moment he couldn’t begin to name. Maybe he just knew, without reason, without logic.

Even afterwards, Slater never figured out who initiated the kiss, who moved in first or maybe it was them both at the same time. All he knew was that one moment they were staring at each other and the next their lips were pressed together, hard and firm and defiant.

It wasn’t soft or slow or gentle or any of the things a first kiss between two people was supposed to be. Their lips slotted together violently, moving against each other fervently. Zack’s hands were definitely pressing harder agains his chest now and Slater reached an arm out to rest it on Zack’s arm, fingers digging into his shoulder.

Things were just starting to pick up when the sound of footsteps on the stairs sliced through the mood. “Zack! I’m home!” Mrs. Morris called, voice becoming louder as she inevitably drifted closer to Zack’s room.

The two boys sprang apart at lighting speed and stared at each other. Zack’s eyes were wide and scared, cheeks flushed red and Slater would bet money his looked the same. 

Oh God. Oh God.

Not really thinking, Slater pushed himself up from the bed, grabbing the jacket he’d laid on the floor. Zack was sitting up now, staring at him, face a little dazed.

“I’ve got to go-dinner, I mean...” Slater stumbled over the words, not really sure what to say.

“Yeah, sure. Me too.” Zack’s voice sounded no more sure than his own.

Slater nodded once, not meeting his friend’s eyes and hurried for the door. He closed it a little too hard without meaning to and nearly ran down the stairs, hoping he wouldn’t bump into Mrs. Morris. Luck was on his side this time and he made it outside home free. 

He climbed into his car, and once he was finally alone, surrounded only by his wrestling bag and school books, swore loudly. 

What had just happened?

Something that never should have happened, his brain told him. 

Sure, he’d known something was going on between him and Zack, but this? He’d never have guessed this. But, on second thought, maybe he should have. Maybe he should have recognized what was going on, the feelings he’d been having deep in his chest.

Unbidden, a joke came to his mind about wrestlers, about men who chose to roll around on the floor with other men, sweat and skin pressed together. Slater felt like throwing up. His lips were still tingling from whatever had happened in there with Zack and his chest still felt Zack’s hands like an imprint.

Glancing up at the time, Slater realized he really hadn’t been lying to Zack. He really did have to get home. Christ, his mom probably already had everything on the table, neat and waiting for him to come. His dad would yell at him for being late, likely, and he had no excuse, at least none that wouldn’t make him more angry.

Breathing in deeply once more, Slater drove home with shaking hands, praying that his parents wouldn’t read what had just happened straight off his face.


End file.
